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“Oh, don’t mind me. You two take all the time you need. Relationships take time to blossom and grow.”
Surely, she doesn’t really mean that…
“But not too long.” She grins at us both like she thinks her own joke is hilarious.
That’s more like it. The mom I know and love, always pushing people to find lifelong romance.
Jenni takes my hand and squeezes it above the table so my parents can see. “I don’t know how long we’ll be able to wait. So don’t you worry about that.”
She’s really laying it on thick here. I force a smile. “Isn’t she the sweetest?” I fight off the temptation to elbow her to cool her jets.
If the goal here is to convince my parents to root for her instead of Amanda, she’s done a spectacular job. She’s due to show up tomorrow, and my heart pounds just thinking about it.
But I still don’t know how they’ll act when Amanda shows up. I hope we can keep up this ruse long enough to chase her off. After that, I’m putting an end to this nonsense. I only hope Jenni will allow it to end.
The next people we need to convince are her parents, and we might have to keep our fake relationship afloat long enough for her mom to give up on the idea that Jenni needs to be set up with a guy from India. And who knows how long that will take? We could be at this for years.
Would it be possible to pretend to date Jenni long term without letting my heart get involved?
7
JENNI
Ipour myself a cup of peppermint tea and take it to my laptop in my office. It’s getting late, but after Laurie’s remark about Langston and me having a whole slew of babies, I can’t stop thinking about fostering children. I settle into my desk chair and take a sip of tea as I open my browser. I search “How to become a foster parent in Georgia” and click on the top result.
I continue to sip my tea as I read through the information, my pulse quickening. Am I really ready to take such a huge step? There’s a form I can fill out to get someone to contact me and discuss the process further. I hold my breath and then go for it. What can it hurt? I can at least get the ball rolling. If I decide later I’m not ready, then I can back out. But I see the faces of the children on the website, and it tugs on my heartstrings. These kids need help, and I can give them a good life. The best of the best. I could take them from hell to heaven. The thought warms me. Or maybe it’s just the tea I just swallowed. Either way, I’m warm inside.
What if they give me a newborn? Like one dropped off at a fire station or something? I’d have to go out and buy everything for the little one. I don’t even know everything a baby needs.
And what will I tell my mom? Because once a little one shows up at my house, there’s no hiding the fact that I can’t get pregnant.
But maybe I don’t have to tell them I can’t get pregnant. Couldn’t I just say I want to help these kids and keep my fertility out of it?
I lean back in my desk chair and cross my ankles. That could actually work.
My house is so quiet. All I can hear at the moment is the occasional car driving down my street. My next-door neighbors have kids, and I hear them from time to time. If I got older kids, they’d have built-in friends next door.
I long to have my home filled with the noises children make. I have the dream job and all the money and success I could ever want. I’ll end up being the vice president of my family’s company one day. But the simplest thing, having kids, is impossible for me. It’s heartbreaking on so many levels.
It doesn’t help that Mom and Laurie sit around talking about how they want grandbabies all the time. I don’t know if they’d accept my foster kids as grandchildren, but I hope it will heal some of the heartache for them.
I take a deep breath, fill out the form, and hit submit.
* * *
The next morning before work, I head over to the stables on my parents’ property to ride Marshmallow. I’ve already called over there ahead of time, so they’ll have him ready for me when I get there. My boots tap across the pavement as I walk from my car to the stable. The air is crisp, but not too cool. Just refreshingly so. I see Langston riding Thunder off in the distance, and he must have spotted me because now he’s riding in my direction. Since his land is connected to my parents’ land, he comes over this way often when he rides.
I head into the barn, and Marshmallow is already saddled up and ready to go. Langston dismounts and walks toward me before I have a chance to get up in the saddle. He looks good in a cowboy hat, plaid shirt, and jeans. I can’t see his rear from here, but I get the impression that it isn’t too bad looking in those jeans he’s wearing. I’ve seen him in jeans many times before, and let’s just say that they fit him well and leave it at that…
“Hey, my love,” I say in a flirtatious tone.
His eyebrows raise. “Love? I didn’t know we were taking our relationship to the next level already.”
I roll my eyes. Can’t he just play along? I force a smile, fighting to keep my frustration out of it. The people who watch over the horses here are probably still hanging around, and I know they talk amongst themselves. News would travel lightning fast if they caught wind that we were putting on an act for our parents.
And I can’t have that.
“You getting in a ride before work?” I ask.